Page 14 of Quiet Obsession
She gives me one more pity-filled smile before her shoes squelch down the wet porch steps. Once I close and lock the door, Hyde peels the foil back, curiosity getting the better of him. Doesn’t he know it killed the fucking cat?
He rears back immediately, letting the foil drop. “You could patch drywall with this.”
I chuckle. “Whatever you do, don’t eat it.”
He nods, heading for the kitchen, hopefully to dispose of the meatloaf before it crawls out of the dish.
***
“Closed or open casket?” Rivers, the funeral director, asks, sitting behind his mahogany desk, a fuckingquillin hand.
“Closed.”
He scribbles the choice on the form.
I never want to see my father again. His dead, ashen face, eyes open and dull as he lay on the living room floor, is exactly how I want to remember him.
Hyde sits beside me, forearms on his knees, gaze fixed on the stack of papers we’ve already gone through.
“We can arrange for a service here,” Rivers continues, flipping another page. “Or at the gravesite. Either way, we’ll coordinate with the military for the honors.”
I grind my teeth until a dull throb starts in my molars. My aunt will have a fit when she arrives on Saturday and finds the graveyard empty save for me and my friend,maybe a couple of particularly nosy neighbors.
“No honors,” I tell him.
His quill pauses, hovering midair. “I beg your pardon?”
“No.Honors,” I repeat. “No uniform, no salute, no flag. He’s not getting a hero’s send-off.”
Rivers clears his throat, polite confusion creeping into his voice. “Mr. Creed, I understand you’re grieving, and that this is a very difficult time for you, but I knew your father personally. He earned his stars and a military send-off.”
“No,” I snap, making the man flinch. “Write it down.”
He stares at me for a good minute before offering a tight nod. “I understand.”
Funny. He doesn’t look like he understands, more like he’s afraid I’ll break his glasses with my fist if he doesn’t drop the fucking subject fast enough.
“We’ll proceed with a private burial,” he adds.
“Good. What’s next?” I can’t wait to get out of here. The smell of disinfectants and lilies makes my stomach roil.
“Casket selection. We have several suitable options for a man of your father’s importance. Oak, cherry—”
“The cheapest one you’ve got,” I interrupt.
Hyde exhales through his nose. “He means plain pine.”
“Of course.” Rivers stands, his nose wrinkling before he smooths his expression into polite pity. “I’ll show you.” He leads us down a narrow hallway into the casket showroom. “This one’s simple,” he begins, pointing out the one I locked my eyes on as we entered. “Pine, unvarnished—”
“Sold,” Istop him mid-pitch.
“Very well,” he says through clenched teeth. “Please move to the front desk. I won’t be long. I just need to prepare the bill.” He turns on his heel, rushing out of the room.
Hyde clasps his hand on my shoulder. “You did good.”
“Did I?”
“You didn’t throw him through the wall.”
